


Kanpai!

by benicemurphy



Category: Free!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Never Met, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Loneliness, M/M, Slow Burn, flirty!Makoto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: Sometimes, you can be surrounded by people but still feel lonely. Sometimes, all it takes is one person who truly understands for all of the loneliness to melt away.One night, Makoto goes out in search of something more, and finds himself falling for the beautiful, quiet presence seated beside him in a dingy pub.





	1. Chapter 1

“No, it’s okay. I get it,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye. “It wasn’t really working… I’ve sort of known that all along anyway.”

With that, there was nothing left to say, and she turned to walk away. Makoto tried not to feel like he’d wasted a perfectly good year of her life, but to try did not always mean to succeed.

________________

“Hey, Makoto, did you hear me? I asked if you wanted me to grab you another round.” The statement came from Koji, a perfectly nice, normal boy who fit in very well with their perfectly nice, normal friends. Makoto drummed his fingers on the table in front of him.

“No, thanks. I’m not really feeling it right now.”

As he sat tuning out the incessant chatter of his friends, unable (or perhaps unwilling) to follow the inane conversation, he couldn’t help but look across the table at Kaida. Lately, her generally ebullient spirit had mellowed. She still laughed and took part in conversations, of course; she still took shots with her friends, though now it seemed less for fun and more out of obligation; and she still dutifully came out with them every time they went somewhere, even though she didn’t seem to enjoy herself as much anymore. Yes, the fire in her had dulled, and for that, he felt extremely guilty.

He sighed, shifting a bit in his seat, the hard wood of the booth bench starting to hurt against his tailbone. He glanced at his watch: 20:38. They had only been out for about half an hour, and already he longed to be anywhere else.

The familiar pang of loneliness flared up in his chest, causing his face to pinch up into a small but visible scowl. No one asked if he was alright, but he hadn’t expected them to. He swallowed back his resentment — not at his friends, really, but at himself for always failing to appreciate what he had in them — and smoothed his features. He should be grateful that he had a group of energetic, fun-loving people to hang out with any time he wanted. He should feel happy and young, drinking away his trivial 21-year-old worries and cracking jokes about some strange character on campus or making references to the most popular sitcoms on television.

Instead, he felt gloomy, wishing he had someone who would seek him out and make sure he was alright; a friend, maybe, or a lover, it didn’t really matter which. He just longed for a type of connection with a person that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.

He set his attention on Kaida again then, hoping that maybe he was overanalyzing the situation. Was it possible that she was actually completely fine? Maybe Makoto was just overblowing his importance in her life. After all, a year wasn’t _that_ long in the grand scheme of things, and it had already been three months. She was an interesting and wonderful girl; surely, she understood that another guy would come along soon if that was what she wanted.

As he watched her, he caught the familiar downturn of her lips when the attention of their friends was no longer on her. He felt another ugly stab of guilt at realizing that her unhappiness was now _familiar_ to him, whereas before she was always full of joy and vivacity.

Makoto knew the others in their group probably didn’t notice. They never noticed anything, really, and if they did, they never talked about it. They talked about things like potential love interests, what they were watching on TV that week, new drinks and bars they wanted to try, and occasionally, school, but never really important things like their problems or worldviews. They mostly liked to party, and while Makoto liked a good party every now and then, too, he also craved more stimulating conversation.

He found himself feeling frustrated. He could tell that Kaida needed someone, but no one was there for her. He knew that she was too proud to reach out to someone on her own, and though he may have wanted to help, he also knew that he was not the person she needed. He was the one who had dulled her.

For lack of anything better to do, he allowed his gaze to wander, eventually falling on the girl next to him. Her name was Saki. Although she tended to be quieter than the others, Makoto knew it was because she preferred to observe. She was very perceptive. At the moment, she was studying Kaida with curiosity, unspoken thoughts seemingly tumbling through her mind. After breaking free of his own thoughts, he could see that maybe she had noticed a change in Kaida, too. He quietly pulled her aside.

“What is it, Makoto?” Saki asked, concern etched across her brow. “Is it about Kaida?”

Makoto nodded, relieved that he had correctly interpreted her interest in their friend. “I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been herself for a while. I really think she needs a friend.”

“What about you?” Saki smiled at Makoto, and he noticed that she was lovely. He felt guilty that he had never noticed that about her before, but then again, he never paid much attention to any of his friends.

“It can’t be me,” Makoto replied. He stared at his feet. “I think it’s actually because of me.”

He wondered if that sounded self-centered, but when he shifted his gaze to meet Saki’s eyes after a beat of silence, he noticed that she was wearing a look of contemplation. Makoto waited, hoping that maybe Saki would understand and could step in to be the friend that Kaida needed and deserved.

After another moment, she nodded and made her way back to the table. Feeling slightly less guilty than he did a few minutes before, he decided it was time to leave. What would be the point in staying? His friends knew he wasn’t in the best mood anyway, so why should he stay and dampen their good time?

He moved to the bar to pay his tab and left without saying goodbye, receiving nothing but a small nod of acknowledgement from Saki as he turned his back and walked away.

________________

Rather than taking his normal route home, Makoto decided to roam the city for a while. It was still relatively early, and although he had been at the bar with his friends for a little while already, he didn’t quite feel like he was ready to turn in. He wanted to be alone, but he also wanted to be out. As his feet wandered the streets, he allowed his eyes to wander as well. He looked lazily from building to building. Most of the shops had closed by then, but there were still a number of restaurants open, and the bars had yet to fill to capacity. He halfheartedly tried to remember if he had eaten, but realized he wasn’t especially hungry. He just wanted to enjoy the night air by himself.

After about 45 minutes of wandering aimlessly, he found himself in a part of town that he had never really visited. He perked up a little, content that he had found some new ground, and allowed himself to look a little harder at the surrounding businesses.

One in particular that caught his eye appeared to be a little gastro pub at the intersection of two streets. He couldn’t find a name anywhere, just the word “PUB” painted in white on a wooden board nailed to the door. He peeked into the cloudy window and was surprised to find that there were very few patrons inside. His curiosity piqued, he pulled open the heavy wooden door and let himself in.

The atmosphere was slightly stale with the scent of frying oil, beer, and old cigarettes. He looked around and found a staircase near the back that presumably led to more seating upstairs. He wondered what kinds of people sat upstairs versus downstairs. Maybe upstairs was reserved for private parties? He wondered if anyone ever chose to have private parties in a place like this. Still, he felt oddly comfortable in the dingy little pub. He noticed that it actually appeared to be very clean, and thought that it probably felt dingy because it was so old. He shrugged, not really caring one way or the other, and made his way to the bar.

Not long after he sat down, a bartender sauntered over to him, drying a heavy pint glass with a clean rag. He set down the pint glass with a _thunk_ and smiled a toothy grin at Makoto.

“What can I getcha?”

Makoto thought the bartender looked friendly enough. He was athletic with a fierce glint in his eye, but he also wore a carefree expression and smiled with his whole face. He wondered what kind of person the bartender was.

Without looking at a drink menu, Makoto replied, “I’ll just have whatever is your favorite.” The bartender nodded and shot him a look of approval before he moved over to the liquor bottles. Makoto watched with some interest as the bartender mixed Gin, a clear carbonated liquid that he assumed was just soda water, simple syrup, and a few squeezes of fresh lemon juice. He garnished the drink with a lemon slice and then popped a stirring straw into the glass before sliding it across the bar.

“Can I start you a tab?”

Makoto nodded and accepted his drink, then pulled out his wallet to give his credit card to the bartender. As the bartender walked away to start the tab, Makoto stirred the drink a bit with the straw before taking a sip from the rim of the glass. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the drink was not overly sweet, but not bitter either. He had never really been much of a gin drinker, but he thought it tasted quite good. Satisfied, he smiled at the bartender and thanked him for the drink. “It’s good,” he said. “What’s it called?”

The bartender grinned back. “It’s a Tom Collins. I learned about it when I lived in Australia.”

“Oh? Study abroad?”

“Sort of. I actually went for middle school and part of college.”

“What about high school?”

“Came back here for a while,” he replied with a shrug.

Makoto thought about it. The bartender had gone away for all of middle school, for four years of his life. Why? He took a big swig of his drink and spoke again. The bartender didn’t seem to have much else to do anyway. “Why did you come back?”

The bartender sighed. “It’s a long story. The short version is that I went to pursue swimming, and I didn’t do too well, so I came back. I took a year off of swimming and started again in my second year of high school. I went back to Australia to swim for a few years after graduation, but after a while it just wasn’t fun anymore.”

“Why not?” Makoto wondered if he was prying, but he thought that if the bartender didn’t want to tell him, he wouldn’t.

The bartended paused before answering. Makoto figured he was probably trying to decide which version of the truth to tell.

“Someone important to me couldn’t come with me. Professional swimming is a lonely world. Most people treat it as an individual sport, so even though you have teammates, you do a lot of it on your own. I was just tired of being on my own.”

“And what about now? Are you still on your own?”

The bartender smiled a soft smile, nothing like the huge sharp-toothed grin he had flashed earlier. He still smiled with his whole face, his eyebrows drawing up and his eyes drooping slightly in an expression that Makoto thought was probably fondness or admiration. “No. I’m not alone anymore. I have everything I need.”

Upon hearing those words, Makoto felt a pang of jealousy. _“I’m not alone anymore.”_ He wondered how that felt, because he was still painfully alone. He took a few more gulps of his drink to finish it off, then pushed the glass away from him. Despite the loneliness, or maybe because of it, he still didn’t want to go home, back to his empty one-bedroom apartment where he had no family, no roommate, and no lover to welcome him home.

The bartender scooped up the glass and brought him back another drink — just clear liquid in a small shot glass. He placed another shot glass next to the first one, but inside the second was a lemon slice coated with sugar. Makoto looked up and gave the bartender a quizzical look. The bartender shrugged, holding his own shot glass in one hand and a sugared lemon in the other. “What?” The bartender asked. “Never done a lemon drop before?”

Makoto wondered if that was another thing the bartender had learned in Australia, or if Makoto just didn’t know much about drinking. Deciding it was maybe time to let himself go a little, he shrugged back and followed the bartender’s lead, taking the shot in one hand and the sugared lemon in the other.

“Alright, take the shot first, then chase it with the lemon,” the bartender explained. Makoto nodded. The bartender lifted his shot glass to Makoto, and Makoto clinked his own against it, at which point both men threw back the liquid. Makoto had to stop himself from gagging, but allowed himself to wince before remembering the lemon, which he immediately stuffed into his mouth to try to rid himself of the flavor of the alcohol. The lemon was good. The sour taste would have made his lips pucker if it hadn’t been coated with sugar, which evened out the flavor. He wondered if he could just have more sugared lemons.

“What _was_ that?” Makoto asked, finally recovering from the horrible taste of the shot.

“Vodka,” the bartender smirked. Makoto grimaced.

“Straight vodka? Why?”

The bartender shrugged again, the wide grin once again lighting up his features. “Because it’s fun,” he said, and Makoto figured it probably was fun. It didn’t taste good, but that was what the lemon was for. And hey, shots, right? What better way to forget his loneliness than by taking shots with a friendly stranger? He took this time to really look at the bartender. He noticed the bartender’s maroon hair was sort of wild, even when he had it tied back into a small ponytail. His eyes were bright red, which matched the intensity that they seemed to perpetually exude. His features were sharp and masculine, but he maintained an air of boyishness that suited him. He was attractive, Makoto concluded. He wondered what kind of person he had fallen for that made him smile so adoringly when he talked about them.

He sat there for a long time — he wasn’t sure how long — chatting and talking with the bartender about Australia and the other places he had been during his time as a swimmer. He found it easy to talk to the bartender, and he allowed the bartender to bring him whatever drinks he felt like making as he shuffled back and forth between Makoto and the other bar patrons. He liked most of the drinks, and the ones he didn’t care for, the bartender would drink himself. Throughout the night, he found that he enjoyed being at the pub. He found he didn’t mind the stale smell of the air when the atmosphere was so warm. He found that he preferred the quiet, unimposing patrons to the rowdy college crowds of the bars he frequented with his friends. Most of all, he found that he really enjoyed having conversations about something real.

Throughout the entire night, he failed to notice the dark-haired young man who had come in just a few minutes after he did and sat at the end of the bar, alone and quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

Makoto returned to the pub many times over the next week and a half. It was a safe haven for him. On the days that he wasn’t able to go out because he was too focused on schoolwork, he felt lonely. He was halfway through his final year, and he struggled to maintain the motivation to finish strong. He already had a great GPA and recommendations from some highly esteemed professors, so all he had left to do was pass his remaining classes and wait to hear back about his graduate school applications. Still, he tried not to let himself fall into poor habits. He had two exams and a project due during that time, and he devoted himself as best he could to his work, even if all he wanted was to leave his empty apartment and sip fruity drinks over friendly conversation.

Over that week and a half, he enjoyed many pleasant conversations with the bartender. He learned that while sarcastic, he was a genuinely caring person who was fiercely loyal to his friends and partner, about whom Makoto was still very curious. He wondered if he could ask about them, or if that would be too forward coming from a customer. He thought about it all the way to the pub when he finally had a break from assignments.

He also thought about why he wanted to know so much about the bartender’s love life. He figured it probably had to do with his own loneliness, and the fact that he had never found someone who made him feel as assured and at home as the bartender appeared when he talked about his love. He also thought that it probably had something to do with his interest in human nature, and that maybe if he knew what kind of person the significant other was, he would learn a little more about the bartender, too. He guessed that was probably why he had chosen to major in psychology.

It was a long walk, but he enjoyed the feeling of strolling in the open air alone with his thoughts. He hadn’t gone out of his way to speak to any of his friends since he left the bar almost two weeks before, and though he felt guilty, he needed the time to figure out what he wanted for himself. They had actually invited him to go out with them again that very night, but he declined, citing the need to study, even though it was a lie.

When he walked into the pub a few minutes later, he took his usual seat and waited for the bartender to find him. To his dismay, a different bartender was working. The new bartender was tall — taller than Makoto, who already tended to tower over everyone — and his expression was cold and stoic. His bright teal eyes provided a sharp contrast to his short black hair. He was athletic, like the other bartender, but much bigger. He was attractive, but in a very different way from the first man, and Makoto felt a little intimidated by his commanding presence. So as not to waste any of the bartender’s time, he blurted out the first drink he could think of (“Uh, um, Tom Collins, please!”), which for some reason amused the new bartender, who chuckled as he mixed the drink.

“So,” the larger man prodded, “you met Rin?”

“Rin…?” Makoto felt his face go blank. The bartender rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you know, red hair, pointy teeth, smiles like an idiot?”

“Oh! Yes! He’s very nice,” Makoto commented. “How did you know?”

The bartender pointed to the glass in front of Makoto. “That’s his drink. It’s not the most popular drink around here.”

Makoto reached up and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I just said the first thing that came to mind. Usually when I come in, he just makes me whatever he feels like making. I don’t remember the names of most of them. He’s a great bartender!” Makoto grinned up at the new bartender, thinking maybe his intimidating appearance didn’t really reflect his personality. He faltered, however, when he realized the new bartender was scrutinizing him. He smoothed his grin into a more neutral face and began sipping his drink. It was good, but not quiet as good as the one that the first bartender — Rin — had made. He tried not to show it. Instead, he asked, “So, the other, er, Rin-san, isn’t working tonight?”

“Matsuoka.”

“Huh?”

“His family name is Matsuoka. Unless you feel like you deserve to be on first-name basis with someone whose name you just learned.”

“Oh, heh, that’s true,” Makoto conceded, and he was sure was bright red if the heat on his face was any indication. He really hadn’t meant to offend the new bartender; he just wanted to know if he would get to see his new friend.

“And he’s taken.”

Makoto nearly choked on his drink before managing to stammer out a clumsy, “I-I know! I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant—”

“No, he’s not coming in today. Thursday is his day off. So are you starting a tab or closing out?”

Makoto’s head spun a little at the abrupt change in conversation, and he had no idea if he wanted to stay or go. He could leave and get away from the awkward conversation, but that would probably make the scary new bartender think he had some kind of crush on Matsuoka-san. On the other hand, he could stay and try to live out his evening as planned, even though he didn’t really think he’d have much company.

As he debated, he emptied his glass and set it back down, only to have another glass appear in front of him a moment later, filled with a shockingly green liquid. He looked up to see the scary bartender smirking at him and debated the possibility of the man poisoning him in his own workplace. He was just about to refuse the drink when the bartender spoke again.

"You look like you need a place to hang out. I’ll stay out of your hair. Just wave me over when you need a refill.” He started toward the back of the pub, and just before he passed through the door leading to what Makoto guessed was the kitchen, he turned back around and pointed to the drink. “ _My_ favorite,” he explained, then disappeared out of sight.

Makoto sighed and took a sip of the drink. It was… surprisingly fruity for a guy who looked that tough. He didn’t hate it. Actually, it was pretty damn good. He nursed it for a while, savoring the taste of the sugar and alcohol, until he heard the door of the pub close softly. It was a Thursday night, which meant there weren’t many people there, and he was a little surprised to hear someone coming in so early. It was only around dinner time, so any patrons who came out to drink probably wouldn’t arrive for another few hours. It was part of why he had arrived so early.

He didn’t turn to investigate who had come in, but he did watch as the bartender poured the newcomer’s drink. He didn’t recall hearing them order anything, so when his curiosity at the non-verbal exchange got the better of him, he looked over and was surprised to find that the young man was close to his own age. Makoto was not able to see his face, but recognized his profile as someone he had seen at the pub a few times before. The young man accepted the drink with a nod, then opened a notebook he had pulled from his messenger bag. With a shrug, Makoto turned back toward the bartender, ready to order another drink. The arrangement he had with Matsuoka-san worked well, so he asked the new bartender to serve him the same way. Whatever the bartender wanted to make, he would drink.

Three drinks later, Makoto was starting to feel much lonelier than he had hoped when he set off toward the pub earlier that evening. He was a total of five drinks into an evening alone, which he had hoped to be spending engaged in meaningful conversation. He frowned down at the new drink in front of him. The new bartender was good — he made tasty drinks and kept them coming — but he was not as personable as Matsuoka-san. Makoto had barely spoken to the man aside from their initial conversation, and he craved human interaction. He was out at a bar on a Thursday, for God’s sake. If he wanted to be alone, he would have just stayed home. He bitterly thought that maybe he should just leave and join his friends at whatever crowded, sticky college bar they had chosen.

While he was debating the pros and cons of staying and talking to nobody versus going home and falling asleep on the couch with the TV on, the young man at the end of the bar started making moves to leave. Makoto turned to watch. There was nothing else to do, anyway. When the young man stood, Makoto noticed that he, too, looked quite athletic. He wasn’t big and powerful like the scary bartender, or broad and tapered like Matsuoka-san; he was lean and compact and moved very gracefully.

Makoto watched as the young man closed the notebook, which he then recognized as a sketchbook, and placed it inside his bag, which he had propped up on the bar for easier access. He watched the man pack two graphite pencils, a pencil sharpener, an eraser, and a black marker into a pencil case before placing those inside the messenger bag as well. He watched the man’s fluid movements as he flipped the bag closed and slung it over his shoulder. As the young man turned to walk away, Makoto noticed how poised he was, and as he glided toward the exit, Makoto noticed that his gait was smooth and quiet.

He also noticed how when the young man opened the door, the moonlight bounced off of his shiny black hair in a way that almost made it look blue, and that the thin cream-colored sweater he wore accentuated his shoulders and fell smoothly down his lower back. Finally, he noticed the dark jeans the young man wore that hugged his hips and legs flatteringly, but not too tightly. While his movements were graceful and full of purpose, he also gave off a casual vibe, like he had just thrown on whatever he had lying around and ended up looking perfect.

Makoto stared after the man for a long time after he had gone. Suddenly, he no longer had any interest in staying at the pub. He paid his tab and left, wondering what types of things the mysterious man liked to draw in his sketchbook the entire way home.


	3. Chapter 3

Makoto returned to the pub the very next day. This time, however, he was prepared, and brought a book to read in case he found himself stuck without anyone to talk to. He also brought a small pocket-sized notebook and a pen in case he got bored of reading. Sometimes he liked to jot down questions or topics of discussion that crossed his mind so that he could revisit them later. The problem was that none of his friends were really interested in those kinds of discussions, so rather than _actually_ being a list of potential conversations, it was more like a journal full of disjointed thoughts.

He sat at the bar and thumbed through the notebook, waiting for someone to take his order, and stopped at a thought he had written down when he was still dating Kaida: _“Does a person’s name influence the person they become?”_ That was something he had always found interesting, and it made sense at the time why Kaida had inspired the thought. Her name meant “Little Dragon,” and it certainly fit her. She was fiery and unique, and he had never met anyone else quite like her. A dragon, a mythical creature, suited her.

Thinking of Kaida made him feel a strong pang of guilt. He really hoped that in his absence, she had started to come back out of her shell. He missed her as a friend, but he also knew that even though he was never in love with her, she had fallen for him quite hard. For the three months after they broke up, he selfishly thought that they could continue being friends, but he was fooling himself, trying to believe that he wasn’t hurting her every day by never giving her the space she needed to move on.

Sitting alone at the pub now was a relief. For the past two weeks or so, since he had first left his friends behind at the bar, he had dreaded the loneliness. While it was true that he wasn’t making much of an effort to see them, it didn’t mean that he wanted to be alone. But now, sitting by himself, seemingly unnoticed by the workers in the back, he felt strangely relieved to let himself relax, not putting on a cheerful face or friendly façade for anyone. He was lonely, but at the moment, he felt okay allowing himself to revel in it.

Makoto closed the notebook and put it back into his backpack. Instead of waiting until dinner time or later, he had come straight from his only class of the day. It was an easy class, and he silently praised himself for having the forethought to schedule his classes in a way that made his Fridays more relaxing. He had tried to get out of Friday classes altogether, but the one class he had was only available on a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule and was required for his degree, and since he was in his final term, he had no choice but to take it. Still, since the class started at 3 PM, he could sleep in all morning, work on some assignments before class, lazily walk to campus, and then be finished by 4:30. That was how he found himself at the pub at 5 PM, before the business people had made their way there after work, and Makoto was blissfully alone with himself. No wonder no one had come to take his order yet — no other customers were even there. They probably weren’t expecting any customers for at least another half hour.

With nothing else to hold his attention, his mind turned to the young man with the sketchbook and the sweater that looked so good on him. He wondered if he would come tonight, too. Yesterday, the man had just sat there sketching in his book, not talking to anyone. Why did he do that here? Why couldn’t he draw at home, or in one of the art rooms at one of the universities? Did he even _go_ to university? He looked to be about Makoto’s age. Was he an art student? Or maybe he had already graduated. Did he have a job? Was he working on something _for_ his job?

What did the enigmatic man even look like?

He wanted to know more. The man was mysterious — silent and smooth. Makoto had been enchanted by the way his hair shone in the moonlight and his easy poise, as if being perfect came completely naturally to him.

Angling his chair enough that he could see the door from the corner of his eye, he pulled out his book and began to read.

It was a while before anyone came out to serve him. When Matsuoka-san finally arrived, he startled Makoto out of his book by shouting, “Oh shit! How long have you been here?” Makoto just smiled up at him, happy to see his favorite bartender had returned. “I’m really sorry if you’ve been waiting long,” Matsuoka-san said with a regretful look. “First drink’s on me tonight.”

“That’s alright!” Makoto replied, lifting his book to indicate that he had been occupied. “I’m just here to hang out, anyway.”

“Still, I’d feel better. So just let me get you something, alright?”

“Alright,” Makoto nodded agreeably. “I think I’d like something refreshing, not too sugary but still easy to drink.”

Matsuoka-san took a minute to think it over before asking, “Do you feel like getting drunk tonight?”

Makoto chuckled. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll probably be here for a while, and I’m walking home. Like I said, I’m just here to hang out.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Matsuoka-san set off to make Makoto’s drink. When he came back, he took Makoto’s card to start his tab, reminding him that his first two drinks were on the house. Makoto thanked him and then took a sip of his drink. It was exactly what he had asked for.

“Mm!” Makoto exclaimed. “You can keep these coming.”

To that, Matsuoka-san raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? It may not taste like it, but there’s a good amount of liquor in one of those.”

“Oh.” Makoto thought for a moment. “Yeah, that’s fine. I trust you’ll cut me off when you think I’ve had too much,” he added playfully. He knew his own limits pretty well, so even if he did get a little drunk, he knew when enough was enough. But still, he liked the bartender with the friendly personality and the huge smile. He felt a sort of kinship with him, like they could really be friends someday.

“We serve food too, you know,” Matsuoka-san reminded him. _Oh yeah_. “If you’re going to be drinking for a while, you might as well eat. Especially considering I doubt you’ve had dinner this early.”

“Alright,” Makoto agreed. “What’s good here?”

“You want a menu, or should I just serve you what I like, as usual?”

“You seem to have good taste, if your drinks are any indication. If you like it, I’m sure it’s good!” Makoto was beaming up at Matsuoka-san, happy to have met someone that was so easy to talk to.

“Alright then, I’ll put the order in at the window and be right back.” He walked off then, and Makoto felt a little better. He felt a little less lonely in the empty pub with the friendly waitstaff and a good book for company. In all honesty, he didn’t really care what he had to eat. He was already getting hungry, and he liked most things. As long as it wasn’t disgusting, he would be fine.

When Matsuoka-san returned, Makoto swiftly struck up a conversation. He learned that the redhead was not a student, so he didn’t attend classes. Apparently, he co-owned the pub with the other bartender. They had gotten it for a very reasonable price after the previous owner went out of business. So far, it was doing pretty well, even with the limited crowds. They had made some adjustments to the menu, adding more diverse liquor choices and some more interesting food options, and they had given the place a major cleaning. The previous owners mainly only sold beer, sake, and a small selection of food items that were very overpriced for what they were. Since reopening, they had accumulated a loyal bunch of regulars who tipped well and occasionally brought family and friends from out of town. Sometimes they held theme nights, like bingo or trivia, which brought in larger crowds and helped to balance out the slow nights.

The conversation flowed easily, and by the time his food came out, Makoto was in a very good mood. To his delight, his meal turned out to be a variety of bite-sized meats with a curry dipping sauce, which he thought was a clever way to offer curry in a bar. He wasted no time in sharing his delight with the bartender as he munched his food and sipped his drink. His book sat forgotten next to him on the counter.

When he was finished with his food, the second bartender made an appearance to clear his place and refill his drink. He seemed to be in a better mood than he was the day before. Makoto wondered if he enjoyed his job as much as Matsuoka-san did. He wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how to start conversation with the stoic man. Instead, he contented himself with watching the interaction between the two men behind the bar.

The way they behaved was like watching a couple of kids playing together. They teased each other and swatted at each other playfully when one said something to egg the other on. They nudged each other and purposefully got in each other’s way while they were going about their tasks, all while smirking and shooting joking insults at each other. It was actually very cute, and Makoto noticed that the intimidating bartender didn’t seem very scary or intimidating at all when he was goofing off with Matsuoka-san. Makoto smiled at the scene before him. They obviously cared for each other a lot and enjoyed each other’s company immensely. Makoto thought back to his own group of friends and realized that he didn’t think he had ever had that much fun with any of them.

Right there, in the dim little pub, he felt more at home than he had in a very, very long time, and he was happy to banter with the two bartenders and drink his apparently very alcoholic drinks.

Not much later, he heard the quiet creak and click of the pub door behind him. Curiosity immediately bloomed inside of him and he turned to observe the person who walked in.

It was the young man with the flattering sweater.

Though this time, instead of a sweater, the young man was wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt, a pair of khaki-colored jeans rolled to the ankle, and a pair of purple and white checkered slip-on shoes. Once again, he looked effortlessly perfect. Makoto could tell that the he had muscles under his shirt, but he was lean enough that he could still pull off slim-fitting clothing. But the most impressive part of the young man was not the way that he looked incredible in even the most unassuming clothes, or the way his inky black hair perfectly framed his delicate features, or how gracefully he slid into his regular seat and dropped his bag to the floor; no, the most incredible thing about him was his piercing blue eyes.

Makoto had never seen eyes like that before. They weren’t just _blue_ , no, they were absolutely _royal_. He wanted to compare them to sapphires or the ocean on a clear day or some other cliché, but they were so much more than that. He was completely captivated.

Without his knowledge or consent, he heard his own voice breathe, “Holy crap, you are _gorgeous_.”

His pulse quickened and his chest tightened as he gaped at the man who seemed to be sucking all of the air out of his lungs. At Makoto’s proclamation, the man turned completely and made eye contact, his eyes wide with surprise, before turning back to face forward in his seat. Makoto did not miss the slight twitch of the man’s lip and the faint pink tint on his cheeks. Very quietly, so quietly that Makoto might not have heard it if he wasn’t giving the man one hundred percent of his attention, a small “thank you” reached his ears.

All at once, the air that had previously escaped him came rushing back into his lungs at the realization of what he had said out loud. He wanted to be embarrassed, but at the moment, he just couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything negative. All he knew was that he had (accidentally and somewhat rudely) complimented this god among men, and he had been _thanked,_ and his head was sort of spinning from the lack of oxygen.

Somehow, Makoto figured out how to tear his eyes off the man whose space and privacy he had been unabashedly invading with his relentless staring and sat forward in his own seat. What he could not figure out, however, was how to use his hands to lift his drink, or how to close his mouth, or how to form coherent sentences when the larger bartender came back over to see if he needed anything.

Makoto vaguely realized he was probably drunk. What other explanation could there be for his absolute lack of shame at such a bold statement? But honestly, would he have really been embarrassed anyway? That statement might have been the truest thing he’d ever said. In fact, _gorgeous_ was probably an understatement for the ethereal being sitting next to him with his perfect face and perfect porcelain skin and perfect hair that fell perfectly around his perfect blue eyes and the perfect nape of his neck. Okay yes, he was definitely drunk, but that didn’t change the facts.

And the facts were:

  1. The epitome of human beauty was sitting beside him.
  2. He would likely be back again tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day after that, if the current pattern was to be trusted.
  3. Makoto _needed to know him_.



Walking up to him and trying to say anything that sounded even remotely intelligent probably wasn’t possible in his current state of mind. In fact, even completely sober, Makoto wasn’t confident that he would be able to say anything at all, much less something that would impress a real-life angel. With that realization, Makoto concluded that he needed to think. He just needed to go home and _think_ , because _God_ , was it impossible to think when all he wanted to do was swoop him into his arms and marry him immediately.

Instead of doing that, he shouted a little louder than he meant to that he would like to pay his tab, and when the angel looked over at him, he tried to remember how to breathe and squeaked out a small “see you later” before practically knocking the door off of its hinges as he barreled out of the pub and into the street.


	4. Chapter 4

His thinking didn’t help much. He tried reasoning with himself, telling himself that he should feel even a _little bit_ embarrassed, but then he would just think about the man’s tiny smile and barely-there blush and the way he said “thank you,” and he couldn’t help but want to say even more stupid and bold things to him. He tried to think about _what_ he might say to him, but without knowing anything about him at all, he was coming up short. He fell asleep still half-buzzed and half-dazed thinking about blue eyes and pale skin framed by dark hair.

Makoto couldn’t think of anything else all the next day, either. It was Saturday, so he thought maybe socializing with some actual people for a little while would help him figure out how to speak human words. Plus, he hadn’t seen them in a while. Even if he wasn’t necessarily craving the company of those particular people, he acknowledged that he had been spending a lot of time alone lately, and that wasn’t really healthy.

He called Koji and invited him over to his apartment for the afternoon with the understanding that Koji would pass the message along to everyone else.

Koji did not disappoint. He arrived with everyone in tow — a group of about eight people, including Kaida and Saki — as well as a case of beers and a deck of cards. Card games were something Makoto actually really enjoyed doing with his friends. At the bars, all they did was sit around and talk about things that were of no interest to him, but when they were playing games, there was something for Makoto to enjoy, too.

Makoto also had Mario Kart at his apartment, and Koji had once introduced him to a game that involved drinking beer and playing Mario Kart at the same time, so Makoto was good for a few rounds of that before cutting himself off.

The evening passed rather enjoyably. Even Kaida seemed to be a little happier than usual, not so reserved with her laughter. Makoto noticed that she and Saki spent most of the night together, and he was glad that he had decided to talk to Saki about the situation.

After a few hours, while everyone was lounging around waiting to sober up a little before going home, Makoto lay on the floor and listened to the conversation. The topics ranged from classes and professors to new video games coming out to really awful first dates to first loves. Makoto knew that the topic of love was common and familiar amongst his friends, but he tried not to participate in those conversations. His friends knew the bare minimum about his love life; they had met a couple of his longer-lasting relationships, knew when he started seeing someone and when he decided not to continue pursuing them, and, of course, were present throughout his relationship with Kaida. But still, he never really gave out details about his dates or relationships, because truthfully, he never really felt the urge to talk about any of them.

That was precisely was why it was so strange when, while lying on the floor, he caught himself wishing he could tell them all about the beautiful angel in the pub. He wished he had something to say about him besides how breathtaking he was. It made him a little sad to realize that he really knew nothing at all about him. He sighed and made a promise to himself then and there that the next time he saw him, he would open his mouth and speak.

________________

Sunday was a day for studying. He didn’t have any exams that week, but he still had routine readings to do to keep up with the lectures. Sunday also meant grocery shopping and running errands, which he hadn’t done in at least two weeks, so he spent a fair amount of time outside of the apartment collecting everything he needed to bring home and taking care of monotonous tasks that he’d procrastinated completing for weeks. Before stopping at the grocery store, he decided to also stop at the mall and buy a new outfit for himself — a pair of well-fitted dark wash jeans and a white raglan with black sleeves that accentuated his well-toned back. Wearing the shirt made him feel glad that he had kept up with his workouts, because he had to admit that he looked pretty damn good in it.

At the grocery store, along with copious amounts of rice, vegetables, fruits, and easy-to-prepare meats, he also bought a small bag of cat food. Even though he didn’t have a cat of his own, he liked to feed the strays that loitered around his apartment every now and then. They usually didn’t stay long, but he felt better knowing that they wouldn’t go hungry while they were there.

When he arrived home, he cooked himself a quick dinner after putting away his groceries, finished the last of his class readings, and settled down on the couch to watch a few episodes of his favorite anime. It was a cooking show that sometimes explained the recipes that the characters were making, and he vaguely wondered if he would ever be good enough to make some of the recipes himself, or if he would ever find someone else who could.

He slept on the couch that night wondering about the kind of person he might one day end up with. He didn’t think he really knew what he was looking for at all.

________________

Monday was a long day for Makoto. His first class started at 9:00, and his last one ended at 4:30. By the time he made it back to his apartment, he really wanted a shower and a good meal. Of course, he really didn’t feel like cooking after seven and a half hours of thinking and concentrating and trudging across campus, which meant that he would probably end up going out to eat, _again_.

He thought about the curry and meat sampler that Matsuoka-san had ordered for him at the pub the other night. It was delicious, but not what he wanted at the moment. Vaguely, he remembered that they did sell other food, so maybe there would be something else there for him. Plus, if he went and happened to run into a certain obsidian-haired dreamboat, well…

With renewed energy, Makoto showered as quickly as possible, taking care to make sure his hair was clean and his face was smoothly shaved, dressed in the new outfit that made him look so good and a pair of classic black Converse, and spritzed himself with cologne that he rarely used but smelled like cedar and oranges and mixed well with his natural scent.

He left his apartment with butterflies in his stomach and his notebook of thoughts in his bag.

________________

When he arrived at the pub, he was delighted to find that the gorgeous guy was already there in his usual seat at the end of the bar. He was also quite pleased to find that Matsuoka-san was working, though that was to be expected since Makoto now knew that Matsuoka-san’s day off was Thursday. He hoped that maybe he would be able to talk with him long enough for his nerves to subside so that he could actually approach the object of his infatuation.

The redhead smiled when Makoto walked in. Makoto smiled back, feeling slightly more confident knowing that someone was happy to have him there. He sat in his usual seat and greeted the bartender with a wide smile and a nod. “Afternoon, Matsuoka-san!”

The bartender smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head in a gesture that seemed bashful. “Gah, don’t be so formal. I’ve taken enough of your money at this point. Just call me Rin.”

Makoto beamed. “Alright! Then please, call me Makoto.”

At the end of the bar, Makoto saw the man lift his head a little to acknowledge the conversation. “Oi,” the man called, “why can’t I call you Rin? You take my money every day.”

Rin chuckled good-naturedly and called back, “Because you never talk to me. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

The man seemed to ponder the suggestion for a few beats before shrugging it off. “Too much effort.” He returned to what Makoto recognized as the same sketchbook he saw a few days previously. Makoto wondered if he would ever get to see the man’s art.

He turned his attention back to Rin and asked for a menu.

“What,” Rin mused, “you didn’t like what I got you last time?”

Makoto waved that off immediately. “No, no! It was great! I just feel like seeing what else you have, that’s all.” He perused the menu that Rin handed him and noted the wide variety of foods they offered. While there weren’t a large number of options, being that the primary purpose for visiting the pub was to drink, there was probably a little something there for everyone. He came to a decision and put in an order for salmon onigiri and hot sake.

He got to sipping his sake before facing the daunting task of trying to figure out what he was going to say to someone he had never actually met, only drunkenly complimented. For inspiration, he took out his notebook and started flipping through it to see if anything his stupid faux-philosophical mind had come up with was worth sharing with someone he wanted to impress.

Sighing, he realized that he had probably never had an original thought in his entire dumb life, and decided to just say the first thing that came to mind. He had to say _something_ , right? Literally anything was better than nothing. So, mustering up all the courage he had and trying his best to appear confident, he removed himself from his usual seat in favor of the one next to the ridiculously attractive blue-eyed angel, and said, “Hey.”

_Oh good going, Makoto. Really smooth line,_ he thought to himself. But once again, _literally anything was better than nothing_ , so he took it as a small victory.

“Hey,” the hot guy responded.

_Wow. What a scintillating conversation._

Makoto looked around for something else to say when his eyes landed on the sketchbook. “What are you drawing?” he asked, and the guy turned it around so that Makoto could see. It was a detailed depiction of the bar in front of them, complete with half-empty liquor bottles and a long-haired, sharp-toothed bartender grinning and wiping a beer stein with a rag. “Wow,” Makoto breathed, “you’re really talented.” The guy smiled down at his drawing but didn’t say anything. “Are you an art student?” Makoto inquired. The guy shook his head.

“No.”

“Oh. Well, are you any kind of student?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Makoto waited for a few moments, pondering if he should even bother continuing the conversation. The guy probably had no desire to be approached, but there Makoto was, trying to force friendliness that he likely didn’t deserve. In a brief moment of totally sober boldness that he rarely displayed, he looked the man dead in the eyes and said, “You’re not interested in me, are you.”

The man just huffed what Makoto thought was a laugh and said, “I don’t know if I should be, yet.”

It was a simple statement, but it struck a chord with Makoto. As far as the hot guy knew, Makoto was only interested in him for his looks. Makoto had basically told him as much when he blurted out how _gorgeous_ he thought he was. He could claim that he was interested in his art, which was partially true, but the whole truth was that he was talking to him because he was the hottest guy he’d ever seen. The guy didn’t know anything about Makoto. He had no idea if Makoto was an interesting person or not, and he wasn’t basing his interest in Makoto on his appearance.

That only made Makoto _more_ interested. He was clearly different from other people he knew.

“Well, I think you’re interesting,” Makoto ventured.

“No, you just think I’m _gorgeous_ ,” came the playful retort.

Makoto grimaced. He knew his next response was crucial, so he didn’t want to blow it. He took his time, sipping his sake before pouring himself another helping, and then sighed. If he wanted to make an impression, he would have to say something bold. It seemed like being around the beautiful man influenced a side of him to come out that he barely realized he had. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, and took his chance.

“Well, I do think you’re gorgeous. But now I also know that you’re a talented artist, even though you don’t study art, and that you only drink—” he took a sniff of the man’s drink and winced “—bourbon, and that you come here every day and the bartenders have your drink order memorized.” He stopped to study the man’s expression before continuing, hoping to find some indication that he might be making a good impression and coming up with nothing. “I also know now that you aren’t the type to judge people based on appearances.” He paused again, not sure if he should say the last thing on his mind, but decided to throw caution to the wind anyway. Go for broke, as they say. “And since you’re always here by yourself and never seem to talk to anyone, I’m also willing to bet you’re lonely.”

At his last assertion, something changed in the man’s beautiful face. Makoto wasn’t sure right away what it meant, but he was glad that he had at least made some sort of impression, even if it turned out to be a terrible one. Maybe he was being super presumptuous. Maybe the guy just came here all the time after a long, hard day of being surrounded by friends constantly. Maybe he met up with his friends after. Maybe he simply chose to be alone and didn’t feel lonely at all.

At long last, the man spoke.

“What are you, a psych major or something?”

Makoto let out a loud, stunned bark of laughter. It took the guy he’d been thinking about for nearly a week all of two minutes to completely figure him out. _I must be so easy,_ he mused.

“Yeah, I am,” he conceded. “I’m in my last term at one of the universities near here.”

The man hummed, his eyes shining a little bit, and Makoto thought he must be amused. “It shows,” he said, and Makoto laughed again, this time a little softer and more contentedly.

“Good, maybe I’ll find a job someday, then,” he quipped.

“If not, you could always work as a bartender. You know what they say about bartenders, don’t you?”

Makoto smiled. “No, what do they say?”

“Free counseling with every drink.” The man smirked and turned back to his drawing, seemingly finished with the conversation. Makoto was okay with it. He felt good about their first — er, second — encounter, and his meal had arrived anyway.

He made his way back to his usual seat and ate his meal in peaceful silence. After he polished off the food and the rest of his sake, he called Rin over to pay his tab and pushed back from the bar. On his way out, once again feeling forward, he leaned down next to the dark-haired man’s ear and said quietly so that only he could hear, “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, he went home.


	5. Chapter 5

Makoto couldn’t wait to get back to the pub. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so excited to talk to someone. Sure, he enjoyed Rin’s company, which was what had kept him returning to the bar so far, but something about the blue-eyed man fascinated him. He was aloof without being standoffish, quiet without being meek, and blunt without being rude. Makoto found himself wanting to learn everything about him. He just seemed so _different_ from all of the people Makoto had met since moving to Tokyo. For that matter, he seemed different from anyone Makoto had _ever_ known. He was so used to everyone pretty much saying the same things, doing the same things, _thinking_ the same things… It was all very… boring. People talked all the time, but it never felt like they were really _saying_ anything. And, like his university friends, he had grown apart from of most of his friends back home as well. It was the primary reason he felt he struggled to maintain long-term friendships and relationships. It wasn’t that he was a snob, he had just never really felt a connection with anyone.

That night when he went to the pub, he left his conversation notebook at home. It was basically worthless anyway — he had never found a time to use it before, and he didn’t think he wanted to start now. He was surprised and delighted to find the man already there when he arrived, much earlier than he usually appeared. He took it as a good sign; hopefully it meant that the other man was as eager to see Makoto as Makoto was to see him.

_Don’t get ahead of yourself, fool,_ thought Makoto. _He probably just finished his day early and got bored._

Instead of sitting in his normal seat, he opted straightaway for the one next to the man. As he strolled over, he placed a hand on the bar to get the man’s attention and cleared his throat. When he saw cobalt eyes peek up at him from behind onyx fringe, he pulled out the stool and asked, “Mind if I sit here?”

Blue eyes held his gaze for a brief moment before the man shrugged his perfect shoulders and murmured, “Do whatever you want.” This time, however, the man did not turn away. He maintained eye contact as Makoto took his seat and turned to face him.

Makoto did not waste any time. He extended his hand and introduced himself. “I didn’t catch your name when we spoke yesterday. Tachibana Makoto, nice to meet you.”

The man returned his handshake and replied, “That’s because I didn’t give it to you.” Makoto huffed out a small laugh but did not retract his hand. He simply maintained eye contact and waited.

Finally, after a few seconds, the man’s lip turned up just the slightest bit and he said, “Nanase Haruka.”

Satisfied, Makoto smiled genuinely and felt a little bit of tension drain from his posture. “Nice to meet you, Nanase-san.”

Nanase-san paused for just a moment and let his gaze fall to his hand still clasping Makoto’s before coming back up to meet Makoto’s eyes again. “Just Haru is fine,” came the response. Then, with a glint in his eye that Makoto couldn’t quite distinguish, he followed up, “since I assume you’ll want me to call you Makoto.”

Makoto cocked his head to the side a bit in confusion. “You’re welcome to,” he answered, “but why would you assume that?”

“Because you like me, and you think if we act familiar with each other, I’ll like you, too.” He withdrew his hand and turned back toward the bar.

Makoto’s jaw fell open as he gaped at the beautiful, snarky piece of work in front of him. It took a moment to compose himself again, but when he did, he snapped back, “You offered your first name before I did. A nickname, even.”

He shrugged. “I did, but I hate being called Haruka, and _Nanase-san_ isn’t much better.”

The response actually disappointed Makoto slightly. He really _had_ hoped that it meant Haru was warming up to him. Oh well. There was time.

Still, though, surely most people would be uncomfortable being so familiar with someone right off the bat. Makoto thought about it for a few minutes before reopening the discussion. “So everyone you meet calls you Haru right away?”

Haru shook his head. “My classmates and teammates call me by my family name.”

Makoto smiled and joked, “So maybe you do like me just a little.”

“I don’t dislike you, but don’t push it,” Haru shot back. Even though his delivery was totally deadpan, Makoto understood the chide for the playful remark that it was.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he agreed with a wide grin. Getting to know Haru would be a challenge, but Makoto was never one to back down from a challenge. On the contrary, he thrived in difficult situations, and for the moment, he definitely considered Haru to be difficult. Fortunately for Makoto, that only made him feel more confident.

It was then that Makoto noticed that Haru didn’t have his drink yet. He looked around to see if he could spot either of the bartenders and found Rin wiping tables across the pub. “Rin!” he called. Rin turned his head and waved when he saw Makoto. Makoto waved back and waited a moment for Rin to finish his task and return to the bar.

“You’re here early today,” he nodded to Haru. Haru just made a noncommittal noise, so Rin turned his attention to Makoto. “How’s it going, Makoto?”

“Very well, actually,” Makoto replied. Rin grinned.

“I’m glad to hear it. You didn’t look so good the first few times you came in. I hope things have started looking up for you.”

Makoto was touched. He didn’t know that anyone had been paying close enough attention to notice, even though he and Rin had spoken many times already. The thought made him happy. He really did feel less alone in the pub. Even his own friends had failed to notice his mood for the last couple of weeks. With another beaming smile, he replied, “I think they are. Thank you for your concern.”

“Of course,” Rin said. “So, what can I do for you tonight?”

Makoto held up two fingers. “Two bourbons, please! One neat, one on the rocks.” Rin looked surprised but said nothing as he poured the drinks. He set them both in front of Makoto, and Makoto slid the one without ice over to Haru. For once, Haru actually seemed surprised.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “I can buy my own drinks.”

“I’m well aware,” Makoto laughed, “but it’s on me all the same.” He picked up his own drink, took a sip, and immediately cringed. “Ugh. I remember now why I don’t drink bourbon.”

Haru seemed to almost laugh. His shoulders jumped a little as if in laughter, but he didn’t make a sound, and his facial expression barely changed. Still, Makoto could hear the teasing in his voice when he asked, “Why would you order something you don’t like?”

Makoto shrugged at that but decided to answer honestly. “You seem to like it; it’s all that I’ve seen you drink. I thought maybe I was missing out on something, but I see now that I was wrong.”

Haru raised a dark eyebrow. “Oh? So what do you drink, then?”

“Whatever I’m in the mood for, really. Rin has introduced me to a bunch of new drinks. I think I like gin, though.” He paused. “You really only drink bourbon?”

Haru shrugged again. _He does that a lot,_ Makoto noticed. “I like what I like.” The response made Makoto smile. As a psych major, he had been forced to take a logic class in the philosophy department, which had been somewhat torturous. One thing he remembered from the class was tautologies. Makoto thought “ _I like what I like_ ” would probably qualify as a tautology from a logic standpoint — something that was true in every possible interpretation. He must have been smiling to himself or making some kind of face, because Haru looked at him curiously and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“Tautologies,” he responded simply. Haru just looked confused. “I’ll explain it to you sometime,” Makoto offered. Haru nodded.

Circling back around to their previous conversation, Haru made an offer of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he started, “If you can manage to finish your bourbon, I’ll try something that you like. On you, of course.”

Makoto really laughed at that. Haru was fun. He didn’t say things or behave in a way that Makoto expected. It was refreshing.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “But you’ll probably hate it.” With that, he gave Haru a wink and finished his drink in four terrible swigs. He winced again and tried not to gag, though he had to turn completely away from Haru to hide the probably hideous face he was making. When he looked at Haru again, there was a hand covering his face so that Makoto couldn’t see the lower half, but he could tell from the twinkle in his eyes and the way they crinkled at the edges that he was smiling. Makoto felt a swell of pride at making him smile and wished he could actually see it.

“Finish up,” Makoto told him, “because we’re about to get another round.”

Haru did not chug his bourbon like Makoto, because he was not, as he put it, “a filthy animal,” but he did finish faster than usual upon Makoto’s insistence. The next round was the green drink from Makoto’s second night at the pub, which Makoto learned actually had a name when he had no idea what to call it other than “that green thing I tried that one time,” to his slight embarrassment. But it had made Haru’s eyes crinkle again when he said it, which in turn made Makoto’s stomach flutter, so he really couldn’t feel too embarrassed when the result had been so desirable.

Makoto was right, of course. Haru hated it, but he was a good sport and soldiered on, finishing the whole thing in the same time it took Makoto to finish his. That was when Makoto learned that Haru wasn’t particularly keen on sweets and much preferred savory or mildly sweetened snacks, if any, because truth be told he wasn’t actually much of a snacker. Makoto shared with him then that he loved sweets, but only when he was in the right mood for them, except for chocolate which he would accept any time of the day or night.

Haru insisted on buying the next round.

“We’re taking shots,” he announced. Makoto nodded good-naturedly, though he didn’t make a habit of taking shots. He could probably count on his fingers the number of times he made the decision on his own to take a shot of anything, including his first visit to this very pub when Rin had given him the lemon drop. Kaida always loved taking shots, but Makoto always felt like he needed to be significantly more sober than her when they were together, so he almost never partook. With Haru, though, he felt like he could be a little looser. He certainly didn’t plan to be _irresponsible_ — no, he would definitely need to be able to get himself home, and it was a long walk, so he didn’t want to get crazy — but he did feel a little more comfortable letting his guard down for the man beside him.

Rin came back over and informed him that he was going on his break and that Sousuke would be out to take care of them for a little while. _Sousuke_. So that was the big bartender’s name. Makoto didn’t think he would actually use it to address him directly, considering he didn’t think the bartender would appreciate being called by his first name by a near stranger, but it was good to put a name to a face.

The big bartender — Sousuke — came back, and seemed absolutely stunned when Haru ordered two tequila shots. He made a remark that Makoto only barely heard, something about “finally lightening up,” too lost in his thoughts while he waited. It was clear to him at that point that Haru was more than a pretty face. There was something there, something Makoto wanted to find and keep and treasure, and the idea excited him. Sousuke poured the shots in front of them and placed two limes on a small dish before handing them a salt shaker. “Have fun,” he deadpanned, and then walked away.

Tequila shots were fun because they came in three parts — salt, shot, lime.

The salt was he best part, Makoto thought. To do it with a salt shaker, he would lick his hand so the salt would stick, shake the salt over it, and then lick it again. Taking the salt before the shot helped with the initial abrasiveness of the tequila, and sucking the lime after helped sooth the sharpness of the flavor. More than just fun, Makoto felt that the salt and the lime did their job pretty well in basically masking the flavor of the tequila, which Makoto didn’t much like anyway.

Although tequila shots were always fun, on this particular night it was extra fun, because he got to watch Haru take one.

Lick, shake, lick, shot, lime.

An excuse to stare at his perfect mouth.

An idea flashed into Makoto’s mind before he could stop it, of _Haru lying on the bar with the salt and shot lined up on his abs, licking the salt off slowly, taking the shot, plucking the lime from between Haru’s lips with his own…_

He shook his head violently as if to rattle the thought straight out of his ears. The spastic movement earned him a raised eyebrow from Haru ( _so cute_ ), and he quickly blurted out, “Nothing!” Haru stared. “I mean, I just didn’t take you for much of a shot taker.”

“I’m usually not,” he answered with yet another shrug. “But I’ve done it with my teammates a couple of times. I thought it would be fun.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Makoto asked with a flirty grin.

“Maybe I’m trying to get you drunk,” Haru smirked. Makoto felt his heart thump loudly in his chest.

He leaned closer, so that Haru had no choice but to look at him, and put on his best bedroom eyes.

“You shouldn’t say something like that when you know I’m interested.”

He maintained the eye contact for _one, two, three_ seconds, Haru’s eyes unblinking as they stared back, and then Makoto pulled away. He took no small amount of pleasure from the fact that Haru had to take an audible breath.

Then he changed the subject. “So, your teammates, huh? What sport?”

Haru blinked, seemingly trying to figure out what in the world Makoto was talking about, until he appeared to remember the conversation from just a minute ago. “Swimming.”

“Are you trying to go pro when you finish school?”

Haru scoffed at that. “No. I just needed a scholarship, and I’ve been told I’m good at swimming.”

“So you don’t like it?”

Haru’s eyes widened almost comically before his face shifted back to a more neutral expression. “I love the water. I just don’t care about competing.”

Makoto thought about that for a moment. He supposed it made sense. Makoto was never really one for competition himself. He felt that a person should do what they loved because they loved to do it, not because it would get them something. That was why he kept his own hobbies as hobbies and never tried to make a life out of them.

“So,” he started again, “what do you want to do when you graduate, then?”

“I’m studying marine biology,” Haru responded. “I don’t really know what I’ll do with it, though.”

“Have you thought about grad school?”

Haru hummed. “Not really. I think this is it for school for me.”

“I can understand that,” Makoto agreed. “I’m hoping to get into a graduate program after this, but I completely understand being ready to finish.”

Haru didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and neither of them said anything for a few minutes until Rin came back from his break. He waltzed over to where the two men were sitting and broke the silence himself. “So, Makoto, are you willing to try a drink I made up myself?”

Makoto, grateful for the change in subject, nodded eagerly and proclaimed, “I’m sure if you made it, it’s delicious!” Rin huffed out a chuckle in response and turned to walk away before another voice quietly spoke up.

“I’ll have one, too.”

Rin whipped his head around to find Haru. “You’ve never ordered anything other than bourbon before,” he said. Makoto understood the implied question.

“I _just_ ordered tequila shots,” Haru countered with a bit of a grumble.

Rin looked _floored_. “I can’t believe I missed that,” he said, then turned to Makoto with a grin on his face. “This guy has been in here every day for the past two months, and I’ve never once seen him drunk or talking to anyone.” Haru _hmph’d_ and turned away. “There must be something special about you if he’s actually socializing.” Rin winked and walked away, throwing “I’ll be right back with your drinks” over his shoulder.

Makoto could feel his own face heat up at the words. There was no way that was possible. Makoto had been shamelessly flirting with Haru for a couple of days, and sure, Haru had made a few jokes or little remarks here and there, but nothing Makoto thought could really mean anything. Still, it made his stomach fill with butterflies, and he tried to recompose himself before turning back to Haru.

_Just act confident_ , he told himself. _It’s been working well enough so far_.

“Soooooo,” Makoto said, putting on his most playful smirk, “I’m something special, huh?”

Haru did not meet his eyes this time when he said, “I told you not to push it,” but he couldn’t hide the pink blush growing on the apples of his cheeks, and Makoto felt the butterflies return full force. He broke into a wide grin.

“Of course,” he replied, but he continued to grin at Haru until royal blue eyes finally met his again, and he could see the faintest hint of a smile on Haru’s lips once more. He wanted to lean over and kiss those cute pink cheeks, but he held himself back. This was good enough. The blush and the tiny smile on Haru’s face felt like a huge victory for Makoto.

Rin came back and handed them both a drink with an odd purple hue with a couple of cherries on top. He didn’t tell them what was in it. It was sweet and didn’t taste very alcoholic — definitely not Haru’s kind of drink, and Makoto was not at all surprised at the sour look that scrunched up his face. Makoto rather liked it, but of course, it seemed that Makoto liked most things, and Haru liked very little. Makoto thought that was okay. _He likes what he likes_ , he recalled, and that made him smile again. Haru was maybe a little bit peculiar, he was coming to learn, but he liked that. Haru was interesting, and each time he learned something new about him, he felt himself grow a little happier and a little less lonely. He hoped that one day he could see Haru outside of the little pub.


	6. Chapter 6

His opportunity came sooner than expected.

For the past week, Makoto had gone to the pub every day. He had to drink considerably less, considering his dwindling bank account and rapidly increasing alcohol tolerance, of which he was a little bit ashamed, so he would go and wait until Haru arrived, share conversation over a drink or two, and then walk home. That way, he could still see the man who had rapidly overtaken his thoughts, but he didn’t have to go _completely_ broke in the process. It had become somewhat of an unspoken understanding that the two would sit together when they were there at the same time, so Makoto would arrive and sit in his usual seat at the middle of the bar, working on homework, reading a book, or writing in his notebook, and then he would put his things away and move over to the seat next to Haru when the quiet young man arrived. To Makoto’s glee, Haru had even initiated conversation for the past two days, saying hello first and asking about his day. Makoto had started making mental notes of interesting things that happened throughout the day so that he would have something to talk about.

Over the course of that week, Makoto learned a lot more things about Haru. He pursued a swimming scholarship because his parents couldn’t afford to pay for his schooling. Haru had never had any interest in attending a university until he realized that he had a passion for marine life and needed a degree to work in the field, so his parents had never saved any money for him, assuming that he would just work in the family business after high school. His family had a chain of successful restaurants all around Japan, and his parents traveled a lot. They kept good tabs on the business, but spent most of their time traveling for fun and following their whims. Haru didn’t mind, because they kept in touch and sent him little trinkets from their travels, and he enjoyed being alone. He even spent his last two years of high school living by himself for most of the year, which was when he started getting noticed for his swimming, seeing as he had much more time to dedicate to it. When he realized that accepting a swimming scholarship meant that he could attend a university with the best marine biology program in the country, he set aside his distaste for competition in favor of pursuing his dream.

Makoto also learned that Haru never had many friends. It wasn’t because he didn’t want them, he had said, but because he never really felt a true connection with anyone. Of course, being the way that he was, not to waste words or effort, that usually meant that most of those friendships were never developed. Makoto understood too well how that felt, and shared that he had always felt the same way. While he did have friends he could hang out with when he needed social interaction, he always felt like an outsider to the group, not really feeling the kind of connection with the others that they all felt for each other. He and Haru had bonded a little at that, and it was sad but wonderful. They were two lonely people, but for a couple of hours a day, they were lonely together.

They also discussed more light-hearted topics, such as favorite TV shows and taste in music. They discovered that they both liked watching goofy B-movies that didn’t take themselves too seriously, and even had a lot of favorite bands and artists in common, even though most of what they both listened to never played on mainstream radio. Makoto showed Haru a game on his phone that he liked to play when he was bored, and two days later Haru scolded him for getting him addicted to something so stupid. Makoto continued to shamelessly flirt, and every now and then he’d get the reaction he was hoping for as Haru tried to hide his red face and ears.

________________

It was exactly one week later, the following Tuesday, when he received a text from another of his friends from his regular group, a girl named Emiko, informing him that she was having a party this weekend at her parents’ house and that she would like for him to come. He thought about it. He felt he should go, considering how little time he had been spending with them since he met Haru, but he also didn’t want to give up any time with him. Instead of committing to the party right away, he simply texted back, [ _I’ll let you know_ ** _._** ]

He pondered for a while, going through the rest of his classes and spending his breaks between classes working on an essay due at the end of the week. The more he thought about the party, the more he thought about the previous parties he had attended with this particular group of friends. There was always a lot of drinking, a lot of flirting, some drama (as was to be expected with drinking and flirting), and at every party at Emiko’s parents’ house, plenty of time split between the dance floor and the hot tub. It sounded like a pretty good time, actually, and he wondered if Haru would be interested at all in that type of thing. From what he was already able to observe, Haru was a fairly solitary person, but that didn’t mean that he _never_ liked being around people. He was on a swim team, after all, which meant that he could at least handle crowds and commotion and team bonding and all of that. He also knew that Haru didn’t really have any other real friends, even though he did go out occasionally with his teammates after their meets. Therefore, Makoto concluded, Haru was probably open to partying or socializing at least sometimes, and he likely didn’t have any other plans on Saturday because there were no meets this time of year.

However, he didn’t want his first outing with Haru outside of the pub to be tainted with his friends and whatever drama they decided to bring with them to the party, so when he set out on his way to the pub at the end of the day, he resolved to ask Haru out on a real date, with the silent condition that if it went well, he would also invite him to the party.

________________

By the time Haru arrived, Makoto was _nervous_. It was odd; he hadn’t felt nervous around him since the first few days after they met. He felt giddy often, and sometimes flustered when Haru would say something that could be construed as flirtatious, but not nervous. But today, he was going to try to change their comfortable companionship to something decidedly romantic, and the idea of potentially being rejected made him massively uncomfortable. Somehow, when he had come up with his plan to ask Haru on a date, he had forgotten to consider the possibility that he might actually say no.

Makoto tried not to get his hopes up, because even if Haru seemed to enjoy their conversations at the pub well enough, and even if he did sometimes say things that made Makoto’s heart skip a beat, he was still _way_ out of Makoto’s league. What was worse, he only seemed to get more and more attractive the more they spoke, which Makoto had initially thought impossible, seeing as he was already the human embodiment of perfection. But talking to him made Makoto feel calm and excited at the same time, and it was a feeling he wanted to chase. He had moved way past interested into full-blown crush territory.

He found himself fidgeting nervously with his fingers when Haru sat down, but he attempted to appear calm when he looked up to smile in greeting at Haru as he had every day for the past week. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes; Haru asked Makoto how his day was, Makoto asked Haru about swim practice, they each talked a little about what they had going on in their classes for the week. When the casual conversation ceased, Haru suggested that they go ahead and order their drinks.

“Do you wanna go somewhere with me?” Makoto blurted instead.

Whoops. That wasn’t exactly the smooth ask-out he’d been hoping for. Haru’s eyes widened dramatically at the proposition, and it was only after a few seconds that Makoto realized how his hasty invitation sounded.

“I mean…!” he tried again. “Um. I just meant…” He could feel his heart speeding up rapidly, followed by his breathing. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like… I wasn’t trying to get you… Ugh.” He finally stopped rambling like an idiot, realizing that he had probably just undone all of the confident flirting he had tried to keep up over the past week. He took a deep breath to calm himself and steeled himself for the rejection as his next words came out.

“Would you like to go out with me? On a date?”

His instinct was to close his eyes and shrink into himself, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open and locked with the blue ones in front of him, which were still a little bit wide. Makoto had no idea how long it took to get an answer — it was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like many, many minutes passed before he heard it.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“ _Now_?!”

Haru raised one eyebrow. “Sure, why not?”

“Okay. Ohmygod,” he breathed out in strong puff, not really knowing what to do next. He began to panic at his lack of a plan until the realization dawned that _Haru had said yes_ , and they were actually about to go on a real date, and _oh my god he said yes and it’s a real date and it’s happening RIGHT NOW._ “Okay. Ohmygod okay.” In his fluster and confusion, he started his routine check of preparedness. He stood and jangled his pockets to make sure he had his keys, wallet, and phone, then whipped his head around a few times to check his surroundings and, not finding anything, spun his body around a full 360 degrees. Then it occurred to him that he wasn’t actually looking for anything, and blindly searching for an unnamed something in the pub wasn’t going to make him any more prepared for their impromptu date than he already was. So he stopped fidgeting, took another deep breath, and looked at Haru, who had been watching his mini freakout with a very amused expression in his bottomless eyes.

Looking at Haru grounded him somewhat, and he couldn’t help but smile, because even if Haru was amused at Makoto’s expense, he just looked so beautiful with his eyes lit up.

“Okay, Haru,” he said again, and Haru was quick to quip back.

“You already said that.”

Makoto let out a loud laugh, because honestly, he knew he was acting so dorky right now, but he was just so happy that Haru actually wanted to go out with him.

“Yeah. Let’s go, then,” he proposed, and together they walked out of the pub and back out onto the streets of Tokyo.

Instinctively, Makoto headed toward the nearest train station. He was familiar enough with the walk to and from the pub at this point to know that there wasn’t much around besides restaurants and a few more bars, and he wanted to do something different with Haru. They sat around talking all the time. Their first date should be fun and memorable. Especially memorable. He really, _really_ wanted to impress Haru.

The walk was mostly quiet while Makoto racked his brain for the perfect date idea, and he wasn’t sure if Haru was being quiet just because he was usually quiet, or because he was mercifully allowing Makoto a few minutes to get himself together and work out a plan. Once they made it to the train station, Makoto studied the stops on the line, hoping for inspiration to strike. Thankfully, it did, in the form of a station just a few stops away. It would be about twenty minutes on the train, but Makoto felt that was reasonable for a somewhat spur-of-the-moment absolutely perfect first date.

They sat next to each other on the train, shoulders brushing. With every jostle of the train, every time he could feel Haru lean away and press against him again, his stomach fluttered with butterflies. He became acutely aware that he had never actually touched Haru before. It was a bit of a strange realization, really. When had he ever thought about how often he touched other people? Never, that he could remember. And this touch was just so innocuous, just the occasional brush of their shoulders. It shouldn’t have been as dizzying as it was.

He was brought out of his head when Haru asked, “So, where are we going?” Makoto smiled and gave him the name of their stop. Haru looked like he wanted to ask another question to clarify, but Makoto wanted it to be a surprise. Subconsciously, he supposed, he probably also didn’t want to see Haru’s reaction until they arrived, because if it was bad, he’d have to come up with another idea.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Makoto started, “so I hope it’s as fun as I remember.”

“When was the last time you came?”

Makoto thought about it. It had to have been sometime during his first or second year, before everyone came of drinking age and started spending all of their weekends at bars or house parties. That was a bit of a disconcerting thought. “Hmf,” he huffed thoughtfully, “I guess it’s been two or three years by now.”

“Why?”

“Well… truthfully, I never asked, but after a while it seemed like none of my friends were really interested in doing this kind of thing anymore.” Haru hummed at that, and Makoto continued, “I mean, I’m sure they would have come if I had asked, but I guess I’m not much of a planner. I usually just go along with what the others want to do. It’s all the same to me, really.”

He glanced at Haru to see him observing him thoughtfully. “You’re planning this now,” Haru observed. Makoto’s heart fluttered as he smiled at Haru.

“This is different. This matters.”

Haru smiled back.

________________

Luckily, their destination was not very crowded, seeing as it was a Tuesday night. On the weekends, the place was usually filled with large groups of teenagers and parents with young children. On a Tuesday night, though, the teenagers had school the next day, the parents had work, and the children needed to be in bed early. It was relatively empty, which Makoto found advantageous so that they could easily enjoy everything it had to offer.

The building they entered appeared to be a normal shopping mall from the outside, but on the inside, it was filled to the brim with every kind of leisurely activity available and lit with neon lights, colorful walls, and blinking machines. In every direction there were signs pointing out the arcade, karaoke, bowling, roller skating, golf, darts, billiards, and table tennis. Makoto was briefly taken aback, having forgotten just how _huge_ the complex really was, but recovered quickly and made his way over to the bowling lanes. He turned to Haru to ask how many games he should buy but froze when he saw him. Haru was looking around in a daze, taking in the new environment, his eyes reflecting all of the neon colors and flashing lights surrounding them. His expression was open and full of wonder. It was breathtaking.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, more to himself than to Haru, but Haru heard him anyway and turned his gaze up to Makoto. They locked eyes, and neither of them spoke for a moment.

Haru was the first to break the silence. “Why do you keep saying things like that?” It wasn’t accusatory, just curious, asked with a softness that matched the moment.

“I don’t mean to,” Makoto answered honestly. “You just catch me off guard.” He took a step toward Haru. Haru didn’t move. He had a strong urge to reach out and take his hand, or run his fingers through his hair, or brush the back of his hand against his cheek. Instead, he did nothing. The two men stood there for a little while longer, just watching each other without speaking. Words were unnecessary in that moment. Words would only ruin it.

Although Makoto probably could have been content just gazing into Haru’s eyes for the rest of the evening, they did actually have a date, and he wanted to show Haru a good time. With a sigh and a soft smile, he broke their eye contact and approached the counter. The teenager behind the counter greeted them cheerily, obviously happy to have something to do on a slow night. Makoto paid for their shoes and one game with a promise to Haru that he could always come back and pay for more time if they wanted to keep playing. There was so much else to do, though, that Makoto didn’t want to spend all of their time bowling and miss out on the rest of the fun.

They took their shoes to their assigned lane, and Haru changed into his as Makoto set everything up.

“Do you want to go first or second?” he asked Haru. Haru shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve never really bowled before, so whatever you want is fine.”

Makoto was flabbergasted that someone could live for twenty-plus years without bowling even once, but he kept that to himself. He understood well how annoying it was when people made a big deal about things he had never done, like watch a popular movie or build a snowman, so he made a point not to react that way toward others.

“Alright, I’ll go first then. You can watch and learn,” he playfully responded.

“You probably suck,” Haru teased back.

Makoto feigned indignation. “I’ll have you know I’m the best bowler in my family, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah? I bet you’re super proud of edging out a couple of fifteen-year-olds.”

“Those fifteen-year-olds are gonna kick your ass if you keep being mean to me.”

“You like it when I’m mean to you.”

“Only because it’s you.” He gave Haru a wink and then walked off to find a suitable bowling ball.

Once the shoes were on and the balls were on the ball return, the game commenced. It was immensely cute watching Haru get the hang of bowling. He refused to use the bumpers because bumpers were for children, so for about half the game he was basically bowling only gutter balls until he started hitting one or two pins at a time. Any time he actually hit something, his face lit up in victory, and though he didn’t say anything, Makoto could tell he was proud. The conversation mostly consisted of playful jabs and the occasional celebration at a particularly good throw. On the tenth frame Haru even got a spare (eventually followed by a gutter ball on the extra throw), and Makoto was so excited for him that he picked him up and spun him around until Haru insisted that he be put down. Makoto, red-faced but still elated, set him down and looked around to see if anyone had seen them. When he came to the conclusion that they were alone, he looked back at Haru, whose cheeks still held a pink tint of their own, and thought that he would give anything to kiss him at that moment.

Too bad he didn’t have the guts.

“Sorry, Haru,” he said sheepishly. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

“It seems like you’re always getting carried away,” he grumbled back.

“Are you having fun, though?”

“I’m bad at this,” Haru replied immediately. Makoto thought that even when he pouted, he was still the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen.

“You got better.” Makoto beamed his most dazzling smile. Haru smiled back in his small way. Makoto felt his heart swell.

“Yeah. I’m having fun.”

“So, another game? Or are you tired of me embarrassing you?” Makoto teased.

“I have a feeling you’re going to embarrass me no matter what we do next,” Haru shot back with a smirk.

“Hey!” Makoto laughed. It was probably true anyway. He was too giddy to be there with this amazing person to refute it. “Alright, where to next, then?”

Haru looked around before catching sight of the billiards table. He gave a nod for Makoto to follow, and then deftly set up the table and passed Makoto a stick. “Break,” he commanded.

Makoto took the stick and set up for the shot. He leaned down, stick resting on the knuckles of his left hand, and closed one eye for better aim. With a quick flick of the stick, he knocked the cue ball right into the tip of the triangle with a loud _*clack*_ and… didn’t sink anything. Haru took the stick back and immediately sank two balls in a row before missing the third and handing the stick back with a smug look on his face.

Makoto accepted the stick and returned Haru’s look with his own expression of amusement. “Haru, could it be that you chose this because you knew you’d be better than me?”

Haru’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Gee, Makoto, why would you think that? Maybe I just happen to enjoy Pool.”

“You like it because it’s called ‘Pool,’ don’t you?” It was barely even a question. While Makoto had yet to see Haru swim, he had become somewhat familiar with Haru’s infatuation with water.

Haru just flashed a smile and nodded toward the table for Makoto to take his shot. Unsurprisingly, he missed again. Then, he had an idea.

“Say, Haru, do you think you could give me a few pointers?”

Haru gave him a look that clearly said, “ _I know exactly what you’re doing_ ,” but came around to Makoto’s side of the table anyway. “Come here. Let me show you.” Makoto hesitated for only a second before positioning himself behind Haru, who had already gotten back into position to shoot. “Mimic my stance,” he told him, and Makoto took it as his cue to position his hands over Haru’s, his left extended forward where Haru was steading the pool stick, and the his right around Haru’s back and extended toward the bottom of the stick where Haru was gripping it.

The new position put them dangerously close to each other. “Is this right?” Makoto murmured close to Haru’s ear. At that proximity, it would have been hard to miss Haru’s slight shiver.

“Yes,” Haru swallowed, “that’s right.” He shifted slightly so that their bodies were almost completely pressed together. “Now, pay attention to how it feels when I shoot. You have to feel the table, feel the ball. Let your body guide you.”

“Okay.” Makoto’s heart was beating uncomfortably quickly in his throat. He leaned in and tightened his grip on Haru’s hands just a little more, and in one swift motion, Haru pulled back and then pushed forward again, and the stick made contact with the ball.

He didn’t hit anything.

“Haru,” Makoto whispered, “I thought you were supposed to show me the right way to do it.”

Haru elbowed him lightly in the gut and murmured back, “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh? Could it be that you… like me?” The answer seemed fairly obvious, but Makoto couldn’t help but tease him a little.

“I told you not to push it.” Haru relaxed his posture a little then and brought the stick down. Makoto kept his hand around the one Haru was still using to hold the stick upright and brought the other hand up to rest on Haru’s hip.

Makoto knew he meant it as a playful chide, but his response was serious. “I won’t push anything, Haru,” he whispered. “I would never push you.” With that, he dropped his arms and backed away.

Haru turned to face the taller man. “Makoto,” he said, and extended a hand. “Let’s go roller skating.”

Makoto smiled. “Okay.” He laced his fingers with Haru’s as they abandoned their unfinished game and made their way to the skate rental. Makoto paid again, though Haru did argue briefly before Makoto made it very clear that he had asked for the date, and he would be treating Haru to anything he wanted.

The skating rink was also pretty much abandoned, especially when the hour was starting to get late, and by then most families would be at home finished with dinner and turning in for the evening. With no one around, Makoto felt more comfortable holding Haru’s hand while they skated circles around the rink, and it seemed like Haru did, too.

He was no longer trying to hide his emotions or play coy. He was happy, and he was showing it. He could feel the smile splitting his face, the warmth of another hand in his, the aching joy in his chest, the butterflies fluttering mercilessly in his stomach. A few weeks ago, he would have thought he never stood a chance with the quiet, beautiful man at the pub; yet here he was, not only on a date with him but holding his hand, sharing smiles, and exchanging pleasant conversation like it was nothing. He only hoped Haru was having as much fun as he was.

Eventually they tired of skating and decided to leave the complex to grab a bite to eat. It was late, leaving their options somewhat limited, but Makoto remembered a pizza place just a couple of blocks away that stayed open late and had a wide variety of toppings. They walked side-by-side on the way there, not holding hands but allowing their arms to brush every few steps, making the hair on Makoto’s neck stand up and filling his stomach with a new wave of butterflies every time. The walk was far too short, and they arrived before Makoto was ready to get rid of the pleasantly uncomfortable feeling the minimal contact brought him.

“Should we share something?” Makoto asked as they looked at the menu together.

“It’s better if we don’t.”

“What, you don’t like sharing?” he teased.

“You won’t want what I want,” Haru replied with a shrug. His tone told Makoto that he was very sure of his answer.

“Why not?”

“Nobody ever wants what I want.”

Makoto’s stomach lurched at the statement. He very easily could have just been talking about the pizza, but Makoto detected the slightest amount of bitterness that seeped into the words and made him think it was deeper than that. He wouldn’t ask about it tonight — their date was going exceedingly well, and he thought that was probably a topic for another time. Instead, he went for a lighter response. After all, tonight was about Haru. He wanted to do everything possible to make him happy.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll like anything you like. Order anything you want and I’m happy to share with you.”

He did his best to hide his trepidation when Haru ordered a large pizza with only mackerel. It wasn’t like he didn’t like mackerel — it was a fine fish, really — but he had never thought to eat it on _pizza._ Still, it was good to try new things, and he founded himself thinking that he’d try anything if Haru asked him to.

His blind faith was rewarded when he took a bite with a big chunk of fish and found that it was actually _really good_. “Mm!” He let out a pleased sound before swallowing his bite. “This is great! How did you think to order this?”

“Mackerel is the superior fish. It’s good with everything.”

“No kidding. I was nervous at first, but I should have figured you wouldn’t steer me wrong,” he beamed.

“What would you have ordered, then?”

“Hmm…” Makoto thought. “I don’t get the same thing every time, but I probably would have gotten pineapple.”

Haru’s eyes lit up the way they did when he was particularly pleased. As always, seeing it made Makoto’s heart swell. “Pineapple goes great with mackerel.”

Makoto burst out laughing at that. “Is that so? Well, next time maybe we can try it.”

“Next time, hm?”

Makoto’s eyes widened just slightly when he realized his slip-up, but he did not back down. He could feel the blush blooming on his cheeks as he smiled at Haru. “If you’d like, that is. I’d really love to see you again.”

Haru smiled then, a real smile, one that lit up his whole face; and in that moment, Makoto swore he felt his heart breaking, because in all of his twenty-two years of life, he had never seen anything so beautiful.

“I’d like that.”


End file.
